My Lady's Pleasure ~ Three Kinds of Wicked ~ Book 11

by Alice Gaines

Trey’s hands moved over her body. He cupped her breasts, squeezed, and then tweaked the nipples gently. Energy surged through her as she approached the unknown. Her whole body thrummed with need.

  Beneath her, her mate strained with each thrust. His breath came hard and fast. The male in full rut, nearing the end of his control. His hand released her hip and went to the place of their joining. He stroked her nether lips, parted them, and touched her nubbin.

  Ah, yes. Just there. The salve worked its magic, warming that most sensitive scrap of flesh. Impossible to climb higher, but she did. She hit the boundary and soared past into madness. A woman’s voice sent a shout toward the ceiling. Her own voice. Her queynt clenched down on him and then burst into spasms.

  Ulric roared and joined her, thrusting wildly up into her. A perfect union. Blazing clarity. She’d been created for this moment, and if it came with this man, so be it.

  When it was over, Trey helped her to stretch out on the expanse of her husband’s chest and stroked her back as she gasped for breath. Another hand went into her hair, stroking it back from her face. Gentleness from those big fingers. He sighed deeply, lifting her head on the intake of breath and then lowering it again. Beneath her ear, his heart beat in the same rhythm as her own.

  The fog closed in around her, bringing peace with it. The light shimmered, now the blue of the sky, now the brilliance of starlight. No more voices, just a sense of fulfillment and joy. She fought no more but let it take her as a comforting darkness wrapped itself around her

  ***

  At the first, gray light of dawn, the ache between her legs returned. Lips grazed her ear while an arm grasped her from behind. Slowly, a hand moved over her body, and fingers found their way to her queynt.

  She rested against a solid, male form behind her. Not as large as Ulric. Trey held her and made maddeningly slow strokes over her nubbin with his fingers. He pulled her hard against him, and the imprint of his cock pressed into her bottom.

  “I’ve been this way for hours,” he whispered. “Pray, grant me the mercy of release inside you.”

  “My husband….”

  “He agreed.” Trey lifted her leg over his to make a place for himself at her entrance. “In exchange for my services.”

  His fingers stroked more firmly now, and the head of his cock pressed between her lips. Again, the men had decided to use her without giving her a choice. She would have to find a way to change that behavior later. This moment, with his fingers pushing her toward madness, she’d never find a steady voice or protest. She wanted him now.

  But what of Ulric? She searched the pillow in front of her and found him. He’d opened her eyes and now studied her face. She gazed back, unable to read him for a long moment. A distant look entered his eyes, and he nodded as Trey slid into her.

  She kept staring into the face of the man she’d wed not more than hours before as another man’s cock thrust slowly in and out of her body. Though her vision clouded with lust, she couldn’t pull her gaze from the sight of Ulric. His lips suddenly seemed the plushest, most delicious morsels imaginable.

  She took his head between her hands and pulled it to hers so that she could sample the sweetness he offered. Even better than she’d hoped, he kissed her back with a thoroughness and care that made her heart ache. Amazing that a man like him, powerful and ruthless in battle, could not only allow her to take pleasure with another lover but could bless the union with this caress.

  She reached between them, pushing his hips away far enough to make room for her explorations. Over his hard stomach and downward. She found his rod immediately, as stiff and large as it had been when it had given her such joy. While Trey surged into her with more force, she stroked her husband’s shaft from the sac at the base to the tip. She squeezed that, and he groaned, leaning his forehead against hers. His breath came in labored puffs against her cheeks.

  “Ah, my lady,” he whispered. “You’ll unman me.”

  “I want to feel it,” she answered. “Spill your seed into my hand.”

  “The three of us, together,” Trey said. “Soon.”

  Trey grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into the flesh as his movements became more frantic. He hadn’t found relief earlier though he’d become fully aroused helping Ulric to enter her for the first time. Though she knew little of men and their needs, his urgency showed itself clearly in the frenzy of his thrusts.

  She had them both vulnerable now, united in their need for completion. The most dangerous creatures in the Almighty’s creation–mortal men who wreaked such havoc with their wars and conquests–now were reduced to their basest drives. Both thrust into her. Trey into her sex and Ulric into her hand.

  But they had their own tricks, too. And their hands. Ulric’s traveled over her body, stroking her breasts until the nipples stiffened. Trey’s fingers played between her nether lips, strumming the nubbin there with the same skill he used on his lyre.

  She’d been a fool to think she held power over them. They could command her desires as well or better than she could do to them. And they had her overpowered both by number and by experience.

  Soon, her own passion flared brightly enough to fill the room with heat and light. Her cries joined theirs as the flood built inside her. She grasped Ulric’s cock with both hands so she’d feel each instant of the miracle his body would soon perform. Then, pushed past endurance by the fingers on her bud, she soared into climax. Her queynt clamped tight onto Trey, grasping him over and over.

  Both men shouted in their release. Trey held her hips as he made his last violent thrusts into her. Ulric’s body went rigid, and his member shot a stream of his seed against her palm. Hot and musky. His essence.

  After long seconds of the madness, she floated back to bliss. Held by four strong arms and sheltered between two bodies, she sighed and brought her hands up to rub her husband’s seed over her breasts.

  ‘Twas sinful, no doubt, and yet she’d not confess it to the friar. What she’d done with these two men must violate divine law. She’d have to pay some penance later, because for now, her bones had melted in bliss.

  Ulric’s stroked her face. “No longer afraid of me, mouse?”

  “I’m not a mouse.”

  Trey laughed. “She has you there, my lord. She’s learned her woman’s power over both of us.”

  “Speak for yourself, minstrel.” Ulric’s voice was clipped. “I rule here.”

  “Mayhap in the bailey,” Trey answered. “But in the bed, the Lady Josalyn holds court, not you.”

  “Does she now?” Ulric rolled over, and for a moment, he seemed ready to leave them.

  Josalyn scrambled next to him and threw an arm over his ribs. The muscle under his skin was stiff. “Don’t be angry. Trey was only jesting.”

  Ulric reached over the edge of the bed, searching for something. A weapon?

  “Please, my lord,” she said. “You allowed this. You can’t mean to hurt us.”

  Behind her, Trey had turned to a rigid mass of flesh. He reached for her, but she pushed his hands away.

  “Ulric, stop,” she said. “Think of what you’re doing.”

  Her heart thundered in her chest as Ulric kept doing something, fumbling, moving his hand in front of him. Surely, if he meant them harm, he’d have done so by now. At least, he’d have shown them a dagger or some other blade.

  His body went stiff, and he let out a grunt and then a low moan. Saints, had he done something to himself?

  She pulled on his shoulder, trying to roll him toward her. Useless. She might just as easily grab the keep by one turret and swing it around.

  “Speak, Ulric, please,” she begged. “What are you doing? What’s in your hand?”

  Finally, he lifted his arm. “I have Trey’s salve. Empty now.”

  He cast the jar away. It crashed against the stone wall and shattered. Before the meaning of his words could register, he’d spread her legs, rolled on top of her, and shoved his swollen sex inside her.

  She gasped at
the violence, but in surprise, not pain. He’d coated his shaft with the last drops of salve to make himself hard again, and now, the fire spread inside her sex, too. He’d used all of the ointment on himself, and his thrusts coated the walls of her chamber with it.

  The pleasant burn spread through her. From the ointment, yes, but also from the force of her husband’s surges inside her. The giant bed shook each time he moved, and she had to clutch his shoulders to stay with him. Her arms barely spread around their width, he was so blessed big, and his cock seemed to swell inside her, stretching her to accept all of him. It might have hurt if he hadn’t made her accustomed to his girth the night before. Now, she took perfection from the way he completed her.

  She held him close, staring up into his face. He truly could have been a lion with his tawny mane and the fierce glare of possession in his eyes.

  “Let no one forget who rules here,” he said as he kept up the rhythm of pounding of his member into her queynt.

  “You do, my lord,” she whispered back, her voice faltering in the flood of emotion. She shouldn’t want this. He’d tricked her again with one of Trey’s potions. But his total possession freed her–from worry, from sin, from everything except the scent and feel of him.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “Ah, lady, do you feel it?”

  “I feel you.”

  “I’ll spill my lust inside you,” he said. “I would have you with me.”

  He slammed into her now. So big, so beautiful, so wild. On each forward thrust, he ground against her bud. Still primed from her earlier climax, it coursed to life again. She wrapped her legs around Ulric, reaching for more contact and finding it.

  Now, together, they neared the pinnacle in a rush. He called her name as his body made the last urgent thrusts inside her. His climax triggered hers. She joined him in the madness, her sex grasping at his over and over. They clung to each other for an eternity of bliss, her queynt clutching at his cock while he released his semen inside her. So powerful. For long moments, she couldn’t breathe as the moment claimed her.

  When it finally ended, she sagged, breathless, against the bed. He fell limp on top of her, a ponderous weight and a welcome one. He moaned into her ear. “Ah, my Lady Josalyn.”

  His voice sounded full of longing, as if this Josalyn were someone he cherished but could never have. How odd for a man who took everything he wanted, by force if necessary.

  She reached out blindly, stroking him wherever her fingers landed. His cheek, his shoulder. She ought to hate him. He’d forced her into a marriage she hadn’t wanted, and then he’d allowed a stranger into her bed. He’d drugged her brain and her body into not just accepting depravity but into welcoming it.

  But when he sighed and rolled off her, she let him pull her with him, and she burrowed her nose into the soft hairs on his chest.

  My Lady’s Pleasure: Chapter Four

  In the garden Josalyn found the minstrel playing a recorder. He breathed out a few notes and then stopped as if memorizing his work as he went along. He didn’t look up as she stood there, but he smiled.

  “How fare you this morning, my lady?” he said.

  “You should tell me. You seem to know more about my body than I do.”

  He glanced up, and mischief glistened in his dark eyes. “I learned something about your body this morning, and I thank you for the knowledge.”

  “The two of you drugged me.”

  “Technically, your husband did, although I supplied the potions.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want here?”

  “Your favor.” He placed his hand over his heart. “I wish only to sit at your feet and worship your beauty.”

  “We’ve gone rather farther than that.”

  “Very well. I only want your happiness.”

  “Why should you care about me?” she said.

  “’Tis my quest, my lady.” Though he sat, he bent low in a bow, sweeping his arm to the side. “My purpose in life, to make sure every woman has the romance she deserves.”

  “Romance? What a useless illusion.”

  “You wound me. Come and sit. Let me change your mind.”

  She joined him on the bench. Odd how that they could sit together so innocently when mere hours before, she’d awakened to the feel of his fingers on her most sensitive place. Even now, her sex clenched, remembering the feel of his hardness inside it.

  “Every woman should be worshipped as the treasure she is. Her lover should hang on her words, pining away for a secret, sweet message from his lady,” Trey said. “He should praise her beauty and chastity in song. I'd like to do that for you, Lady Josalyn."

  ”You’re mad," she said. "Even if you're fool enough to think me beautiful, you know from direct experience I'm not chaste."

  ”You're married now. You gave your innocence to your husband."

  ”I slept with two men on my wedding night."

  He took her hand and pressed his lips to the back. "Necessity only. You were innocent and fearful. Your husband's a warrior and not attuned to the dreams of young women."

  Dreams. She'd never dared to hope that her dreams would come true. If her father had lived, he'd have married her off for his advantage, mayhap to a man his own age. When he'd died, his burdens had fallen on her. The Viking might have given her the freedom to enter a religious order, but instead, he'd taken her for his own advantage.

  Trey put aside the recorder and picked up his lyre. “I’ve only started this. I hope you approve.”

  He struck a cord and then sang.

  “My lady sweet, scorn not, this lad who loves you true,

  “I dream at night of your fair skin and of your eyes so blue

  “But, stay, oh stay!

  “By saints above,

  “Stay, oh stay!

  “And take…”

  “I haven’t quite finished it,” he said.

  “’My love’ are the words you want,” she said. “And, my eyes are green.”

  “’My love,’ exactly.” He took her chin and turned her face to his. “I’ll have to work on the eye color.”

  She jerked her head back. “The two of you make my head spin. He orders me into his bed, a bed that used to be mine. You spin nonsense and call it romance.”

  “Love is never nonsense.”

  “You don’t love me, and neither does the man I married,” she said.

  “Not true,” he answered. “A warrior loves in a straightforward manner. He approaches it the way he approaches battle–strategy planned and executed. He hasn’t time for frills and airs.”

  “An assault on my heart?”

  “More like a siege, Lady Josalyn,” Trey said. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

  If the minstrel was right, she could expect more and more invasions from his body while the Viking tried to wear her down. She’d taken enough pleasure from his maneuvers both the night before and then again this morning. He’d had the aid of potions both times. Would she feel the same when she had to take that cock without Trey’s magic?

  “On the other hand, I can serve to adore you in a more courtly manner,” Trey said. “Either chastely from afar or much more intimately.”

  “How can you claim innocent love after what we did this morning?”

  He smiled. “Say you were still under the power of the ointment. I took advantage. I’ll have to perform some penance to win your trust and favor.”

  “This is all ridiculous,” she said. “I’m not some delicate flower of a woman closed away in a tower room.”

  “I’m glad.” He bent his head toward hers and kissed her for a short moment. No attempt at something more, just a soft tangling of lips, and yet it was laced with a potent magic that set her mind to wandering into a hazy landscape of desire.

  After a bit, he pulled back, and the look in his eyes said he’d traveled the same path as she had. “I’m glad you chose a more intimate love for the two of us.”

  “My husband will never allow you to have me
.”

  “Allow it?” He chuckled. “He’ll watch it.”

  The erotic images his kiss had brought to life coalesced into clearer mind-pictures. Her body entwined with Trey’s, hands and mouths travelling freely. Trey entering her while her husband looked on. Ulric stroking his own cock until it grew crimson with lust and then shot his seed in great spurts.

  “I see you’re intrigued by the possibilities,” Trey said.

  “Can you read my mind?”

  “I know what’s in my own, lady, and I would be proud to do that for the two of you.”

  “The two of us?” She studied his face but found nothing but his usual handsome features. Still, something hid behind those dark eyes. “Have you nothing to gain from my seduction?”

  “I have a great deal at stake here,” he said. “And you and your husband will gain success for me.”

  “Are you a minstrel or an oracle?”

  He laughed again. “Call me what you want, but grant me leave to savor the treasures of you body.”

  “Very well,” she said. She’d been destined to agree to his request. The two men had created a hunger in her, and she’d need both of them to satisfy her. She’d ask for forgiveness later. For now, she’d indulge her senses with both of them.

  She rose. “Finish your love song. I have other things to do.”

  ***

  The mews welcomed Josalyn with dim light and the scent of straw covering the floor. But then, the presence of her hunting birds always calmed her. They’d endured capture, having their eyes sewn shut for the first part of their captivity, and then training and confinement. Yet, each retained its fierce spirit and beauty.

  She put on the leather gloves and coaxed her favorite gyrfalcon onto her arm. It studied her calmly and allowed her to stroke its chest feathers with the other hand. She pursed her lips and cooed to it, more for her benefit than the bird’s.

  The door opened behind her and light spilled into the dark enclosure. She set her falcon back onto its perch and turned. Although partially blinded, she couldn’t mistake the form in the doorway. The Viking–her husband–with another bird on his arm. When her vision recovered, she made it out to be a peregrine, the largest, most majestic she’d ever seen.